Hostile Takeover
by Daydream1
Summary: What happens when certain newsies take over a perfectly good fanfic for themselves? What happens then? DUNDUNDUN! (sighs loudly) I have completely lost my mind! (looks at you pointedly) Have you seen it? One-shot to break my writer's block!


Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. (high-class tone) And I'm sure glad that I don't own a bunch of smelly little newsboys that run around New York striking and threatening people with their handy-dandy slingshots and chain-smoking their cigars! (sudden wail) I WANT THEM SO BAD!!!

A/N: What happens when certain newsies take over a perfectly good fanfic for themselves? What happens then? DUNDUNDUN!! (sighs loudly) I have completely lost my mind! (looks at you pointedly) Have you seen it?

Regular-Daydream

**Bold-Spot**

_**Italics-Racetrack**_

**Underline-Jack**

Daydream's Story:

The frozen winter wind howled through the streets of New York like a tortured banshee searching for a soul to claim for its own. Above the strong city, grey wisps of clouds came together to form a violent storm whose thunder struck out the rhythm of some ancient chant that was long lost in the history of the world.

**What is dis crap? Where do ya get dis from, the factory of stupidness?**

Below the budding storm, a boy listened to the familiar roll of thunder. How often he had reveled in that awe-striking sound he could not remember. He had become so accustomed to its feral song that he rarely thought of how terrifying it had once been to him.

**Ya betta not flashback, Daydream. I hate flashbacks. And dis betta not be about me. I desoive more action dan dis piece of woik is gonna put out. **

(Flashback)

**NOOOO! Did ya not hear me say don't flashback!?**

A small boy was shivering beneath his blanket, trying to block out the resounding echoes of the storm that thrashed outside of his window. He let out a wail as the thunder roared its call of rage. A woman appeared at the doorway of his room, a gentle smile on her face.

**How come it's always a "gentle smile"? Why can't she be an evil madda? Or is it somethan with youse goilly types dat ya can't write about your own kind bein' bad? **

That smile suddenly turned into a paradox of motherhood as the woman reveled the glimmering butcher knife that had been hidden behind her back. Wraith-like, she glided across the room to the bedside of her young son, a sneer as wicked as the Fall on her face.

**Now dat's more like it! I could get inta dis stuff!**

The condemning blade clattered to the floor as the mother realized in an epiphany that she couldn't bring herself to kill her son. Especially when she had no other reason too than that he was a selfish brat and had a love of violence that should not have been unleashed upon humankind. It would forever be a pity that she had not done the world a favor and destroyed the little imp right then so he would not have harassed certain people when he grew older.

**It is about me! Dat ain't fair, Daydream, youse can't write about me like dat. I've got power. And ya made da madda good. You're such a pansy. **

(End Flashback)

**Won't much of a flashback, anyway. **

Spot Conlon watched the storm toss above him, his grey-blue eyes staring into its dark abyss. If only this storm would grow as big as his inflated ego; then it would go down as the Mother of All Storms, the Masterpiece of Destruction, maybe even the Perfect Storm. But no, nothing could begin to shape itself to those unimaginable proportions.

**Day, ya betta know when to quit when you're ahead. 'Specially when youse are already behind. **

Spot was contemplating the enormity of his territory of Brooklyn and just how long it would take him to overthrow the other leaders of New York and bring all the boroughs under a single dictator when the loudest thunder clap of all time was heard. Spot barely had time to glance up and acknowledge the bolt of lightening heading towards his startled face before it incinerated him, leaving only a very small, butt-shaped spot where he had once been. And so ends the life of Spot Conlon, the not-so-esteemed leader of Brooklyn, the munchkin-sized boy who lead a life of fear-striking and playing with his toy slingshot, the boy who used to wet the bed at night when the big, bad darkness scared him.

**Alright, Daydream, ya just went too far! **

And nobody except for his fanclub missed him. And they stopped mourning the not-so-big of a loss pretty quick since Spot's face was horribly disfigured (more like burnt to a crisp like the rest of him) by the lightning.

**Alright, dat's IT! Dis is my story now and I'm gonna make up da rules. Youse can sit dere and stare all ya want cause I'm telling the stupid story! So dere, ya little troublemaker. **

**Spot's Story:**

**It mighta looked like Spot, the great leada of da Brooklyn newsies and all-around good guy, was about to be boined like a certain authoress's cooking but dis won't da case. He was just witnessin' the arrival of a certain meddlin' fangoil into the world of Brooklyn 1899. His world to be exact and he was the all-powerful rula of it. **

Spot Conlon, I am not going back to 1899! I refuse to live without my computer! And you shouldn't poke fun at my cooking skills, that's just wrong. And you aren't all powerful. You're just a short, insecure little twerp who makes up for his lack of height with the gianormous size of his EGO!

**Spot smirked as he watched Daydream fall flat on her face on the docks. Her lack of balance was quite amusin' to him since he was like a cat in dat respect. The helpless little author's face looked like she'd just ate a raw lemon covered in salt and vinegar as she recognized what she was wearin'. **

Aw, c'mon Spot, don't!

**It was the frilliest, poofyest, most goil-like piece of fluff anyone had ever seen. Nobody's seen anything like it since. It was covered in big bows and dose shiny sequin dings that itch and feathers and ribbons and all dose goil dings. And it was pink. Real bright pink like a dog's tongue when it's pantin' in the summa. **

AAAHHHH!! YOU'RE SO HORRIBLE!! I HATE YOU!! AND PINK!! YOU'RE SO EVIL!!!! I HOPE YOUR FANGIRLS BURN YOU AT THE STAKE FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME!!!

**Spot began to laugh since dis was the silliest thing he'd ever seen. Daydream looked like some done-up high-class goil and it was great. Daydream looked up at him from her place of the planks of the docks wit her big, pitiful eyes. Spot began to feel sorry for the piece of author garbage (who was shorter than him, I'll add) so he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the nearest Irish pub where he sold her for five dollars as a bar wench. Not dat she was a good one, mind ya, but she could wash dishes poitty good. **

Spot Conlon, you are the most pig-headed boy I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. I hope to Betsy that you die a very, very painful death.

**While workin' at the pub (where all the money that she earned went to Spot Conlon), Daydream met a goil named Betsy. Betsy was the current goil of Racetrack Higgins. Dey were madly in love with each other and Race never remembered Daydream's name dough he saw her all the time. **

Oh, that was a low blow. You certainly have a way of being a little freak, don't you?

_**Spot, what are ya doin' to poor Daydream?**_

Race, tell him to stop harassing me!

**_The dress shouldn't be pink, it should be puke green. Dat's a lot woise. _**

RACETRACK!!

**One day, Spot took Daydream's now ratty pink dress and traded it foah one dat was puke green. And even more goilly and fluffy. And Racetrack thought this was funny so he now laughed at Daydream 'stead of ignorin' her. **

_**Yeah, dat's betta. **_

No, it's NOT!

**What're youse three doin'?**

**Afta a couple months of slavery as a bar wench, Daydream escaped and went to Manhattan, changing her name from Daydream which is really goilly and fluffy to Bloodsucker 'cause it sounds real smart. So den she became a Manhattan newsie 'cause dey take goils like dat over dere 'cause don't got no standards. **

**Spot, are youse tryin' ta write a story? It ain't goin' so hot. And Mahattan's got standards. We ain't got dat kind on our side of the bridge, thank ya. **

You can't call me Bloodsucker, that's just wrong. And it isn't smart, it's stupid. Like you.

**Den dey threw Bloodsucker out on her butt 'cause dey figured out what Bloosucker'd been before. So Bloodsucker got to roam 'round New York, homeless, friendless, and styleless as Bloodsucker the Bloodsucking, not-a-newsie goil.**

**_I gotta agree wit Daydream, Bloodsucker is pretty dense, Spot. Course Spot ain't tha brightest name eider. It's really a dog's name. I had a dog named Spot once but it was dumb and got hit by a carriage. Yeah, you remind me a lot of Spot, Spot. _**

**Hey, Spot, what if ya made Daydream go out wit Morris? Dat'd put some of dat tripe stuff in the story.**

**_I dink ya mean strife not tripe, Jack. _**

**Den BLOODSUCKER found out dat she could finally get a guy and started goin' out wit Morris Delancy. And den he threw himself ova da Brooklyn bridge because he couldn't stand to be around the ex-bar wench no more. Bloodsucker was den left witout a man (if ya can call Morris a man) and she was real lonesome. So lonesome she felt like she would die of lonesomeness. **

Don't encourage him anymore! The story sucks even more now, Captain of Horrible, Cliché Plotlines named Jack!

**_I dink dis may be a good way for Spot to vent his anger. Ya know he's got enough hot air to lift one of dose flyin' balloons. _**

**Suddenly Racetrack was tossed out of the Lodging House too for excessive cheatin' at gamblin' and nobody liked him no more. And he was banned from Sheepshead Racetrack, too. **

**_DAT'S NOT FUNNY! Ya can't do dat, Spot!_**

I told you he was evil. Spawn of Satan, that one.

**Spot decided that it was now time for him to run the rest of New York-**

**Alright, Spot, since ya've got Day and Race all angry at youse,I'm gonna have to take the story away from ya. I'm gonna write it now. **

NOOOOO! You're too cliché to write anything good! Your name's even a stereotypical name for an egotistical leader! YOU CAN'T WRITE FANFICTION.

**Jack's Story:**

**Jack Kelly, leader of Manhattan and natural born leader, was walkin' down the road to the Distribution Center. It was a lovely day in New York and the boids were chirpin' in Central Park and everyone was bein' real nice to each oder because it was such a poity day. Jack suddenly heard the sounds of a brawl. It was a real good fight by the sound of it and he thought he could get some action so he headed over dat way. He stopped dead in his tracks. Fighting tooth and nail wit da Delancy bruddas was the most gorgeous ding he'd eva saw. It was a beautiful young lady wit real dark black hair and eyes dat shone like the stars in the night sky. She was like an angel come to earth. And she was beatin' the crap outta the Delancy bruddas.**

Jack's obviously thinking of a different kind of action now...Your character's such a Mary-Sue!

**_I tought dis story was about me and Daydream and Spot. Where'd you come inta the pictcha, Jack?_**

**Dis story is trash. Mine was better. **

**The goil turned towards Jack and rushed into his arms. She flung her poity little arms about her neck and buried her head into his shoulder. Jack hushed her, sat her down on the ground, and began to beat up the Delancy's real good. **

**Ya couldn't punch your way out of a paper bag, Kelly! **

Mary. Sueage. Is. Killing. Me.

_**I want to tell the story!**_

Let me help, I have experience!

**_Racetrack and _**Daydream's**_ Story:_**

There was an air of certain glee filling the room as two looming figures circled their cowering prey. **_He was tied to a chair_**, a victim to whatever their enraged minds could concoct. **_Racetrack's smile had a certain wicked gleam to it while_** Daydream's had that unmistakable tinge of hysterical insanity that licked across her lips. **_Spot whimpered as they turned their_** demonic grins **_towards him_**.

**I DO NOT WHIMPER!!!! WHAT THE #&& ARE YOUSE TWO WRITIN?!**

**I think mine was better...youse guys' story looks sorta freaky. Course seeing Conlon cower and whimper would be funny!**

**Don't push it, Cowboy.**

"**_Don't hurt me, all-powerful rulers of the cosmos..._**and my slingshot**_!" Spot pleaded as _**Racetrack pulled out a torture device**_ dat'd make a murderer start bawlin'. It was designed wit the most horrible _**agony in mind****Daydream showed her true colors as she metamorphed into a really cool tawny-furred werewolf and gnashed her swiftly growing fangs at Spot. **_Racetrack told her to rip his throat out._**

**Day's a werewolf!? When'd dat happen, Day?!**

**ALL POWERFUL RULERS OF THE COSMOS!? WHAT?! AND DAY'S A WEREWOLF?!?**

But she wasn't that mean so she just made him denounce himself as King of Brooklyn and give the crown to her and Race. **_But den Race decided dat dat wasn't enough and made himself king of New York. _**Until Daydream made him give up the title and return to being just the King of Brooklyn. **_But Racetrack didn't wanna so he kicked Daydream out of the hierarchy and made her inta a minion. _**And then Daydream assassinated Race in a very cool ninja way and took the crown for herself. **_So Racetrack haunted Daydream until she was a scared little goil dat jumped at her own shadow. _**Daydream then went and -

**_Yelling a splendid war whistle of "Smingledinglewhooperdorf!", a bunch of untwisted twisty balloon animals gamoofed into the room at super fast Swifty-speed and proceeded to eat all the Tootsie Rolls and dressers and sponges they could find. Then they ate Spot's nose and walloped happily out of the room to wreak havoc on yellow lampposts and orange blueberries. _**

What was that? It was just like WHOOSH! take over the keyboard and WHOOSH! leave!!

_**Straight balloon animals??? **_

**THEY ATE MY $(( NOSE?!?! WHAT THE & IS THAT SUPPOSED TO $)$ MEAN!!??! And why are you $#)$# out my $# cuss words!?!**

**Ya know, I think that was Dutchy but he was moving so fast I couldn't tell. I dink he was covered in Pixie Stick dust. **

Remind me to stop buying that stuff for him. I swear he's addicted to it now. He's like Specs' and coffee.

**I'm bored. I'm goin' ta Pizza Hut, anybody comin'?**

What? Spot, you can't drive! You're like a 122 years old, grandpa!

**ARGH, DAYDREAM!! I'm going to $$ kill you!! **

**Run, Daydream, run!!!**

**_FASTER, GIRL, FASTER!!_**

SPOT, NO!!!!!!!

**AAAAAAAARRRGGHHHHH!!!**

_**Ow...**_

**Ouch...**

_Conclusion:_

_Hi, readers, dis is Specs. Since no one else is around besides me, I decided to write or more like tell you about the conclusion of this tale. Daydream and Spot ended up goin' to Pizza Hut with Racetrack and Jack after Spot tackled Daydream. She's gonna have a black eye but she'll survive. Jack ended up drivin'. I dink dis story might have cured Day writer's block but I know it didn't cure Dutchy's sugar rush. Aw man, here he comes!_

**_BWAHAMUHALALA! Rain is falling up while my brain dances with Spot's nose in the moonlight of the afternoon. And we all go WHEEEEE!!!! _**

A/N: Wow...THAT WAS FUN!!!! Hope you liked it, I loved writing it!! Please review, I'll send you cyber newsies! (cyber newsies wave)


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